


Sword and Circle ??? : Pay Time

by beccaelizabeth



Series: Sword and Circle [5]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-06-05
Updated: 1998-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccaelizabeth/pseuds/beccaelizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie and Methos' relationship is for once going great, but old debts leave a price to pay, and Konoval is here to collect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sword and Circle ??? : Pay Time

**Author's Note:**

> Highlander: where everybody dies and you still get to play with them later. This is not warm fuzzy happy stuff, this is fights to the death and the resulting fallout. But I did remember all the warnings.

"So Mac, what did you think of my kind of cultural evening?" Richie asked, grinning, as they walked back to their cars.

"A couple of hours of a body builder with no real martial arts skill blowing up a hundred people for no reason I could figure out , and a ten minute sex scene that had absolutely nothing to do with the plot. That was meant to be cultural?" Mac replied.

"Yeah, pop culture. Maybe you've heard of it. Or maybe not, I mean they only invented it this century. In a couple of hundred years you'll be dragging some other street kid to movies like that and explaining how they're still relevant to the 22nd century."

"You can't compare that to opera." Mac said.

Methos chimed in with "Oh, I don't know, long drawn out death scenes, a plot no one can understand, most of it about sex. Sounds about right to me. I knew a couple of composers who would have written stuff like that if they had had the effects budget. All in all I found it a rather interesting evening," he finished, smirking at Richie.

"Well you would, considering you two spent most of the evening kissing. Honestly, it was getting embarrassing to be sat next to you," Mac said.

"Well if you were watching us rather than the film no wonder you lost track of the plot," Methos observed.

"I was not watching, just with all the noise you two were making it was a bit difficult to ignore," Mac objected.

"Watching and listening," Richie noted to Methos with a smirk.

"You think maybe he's jealous?" Methos smirked back at him, then, being really camp, said to Mac "Really, Highlander, if you wanted to join in, you only had to say."

Mac laughed, and as they had reached the cars he fished out his keys, making sure to zip his coat securely against the damp chilly weather. "Well, it isn't that late. I'm going to Joe's. You two coming?"

Methos and Richie looked at each other, and from the sparks flying it was quite clear they both had other things in mind.

"I think we'll pass on that," Methos replied.

"What, you, turning down free beer?" Mac grinned.

"It's the millennium, you gotta expect a few miracles," Richie joked.

"I keep telling you, these legends about me get quite overstated. I'm not that insatiable," Methos protested.

"Yeah? Could of fooled me," Rich said, and locked eyes with his lover again.

It was definitely time to leave those two alone. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." Mac said, getting into his car.

"Yeah, see you. Say hi to Joe for me," Rich said, wandering towards his bike.

"And say to tell the band get well soon. A little flu epidemic shouldn't be allowed to get in the way of great music," Methos called back over his shoulder, following Richie.

"I'll tell him," Mac promised, and then studiously paid attention to the road as he drove off, definitely not noticing what Methos was trying to do to Richie while Rich was trying to get his helmet on.

***

The next morning Richie and Methos woke up pleasantly together, then Rich got the first shower, keeping Methos out saying something about how he really ought to go to work one day this week. While Methos showered Richie started breakfast and got dressed, choosing tight black jeans and T-shirt, dressing to show off for his lover. Lover. He remembered how the idea of using that word to refer to Methos had once scared him, even repulsed him, but now he just got a rather soppy grin on his face at the thought.

When Methos came out of the shower with one towel wrapped around his waist and using another to dry his hair Rich's grin turned very appreciative. Methos noticed and moved so as to deliberately show off his sparsely muscular physique.

Rich put some toast on the plate of breakfast he had cooked and set it at the table. Methos sat down, wrapping one arm around Richie's waist as he did so.

"Mmm, bacon," the ancient one smirked. He picked up a piece and offered it to Richie. "Join me?"

Richie sighed and sternly told his body he really didn't have time right now.

His body really wasn't listening.

Richie turned up for work at the dojo rather late, and with a grin so wide you expected his face to fall in half.

"Good morning, Mac. Have fun at Joe's last night?" Richie asked cheerfully.

"I suppose I don't even have to ask if you had fun last night," Mac said. Richie just grinned even more, something Mac hadn't thought physically possible a moment ago. "Actually I didn't stay long. Turned out Joe had caught that flu as well, and the place was practically empty."

"Like here today," Richie remarked, looking round. "Seems like everyone's sick."

"That's what epidemic means," Mac shrugged. "Seeing as it's so quiet you can update the accounts."

"Gee, thanks Mac, just what I needed for a perfect day," Richie said, and wandered towards the office. He turned back as he thought of something. "Oh, can I have a long lunch today? I said I'd meet Adam."

Mac looked at the totally empty room. "I don't know, I might need help with the rush..." he said sarcastically. "Sure, no problem."

Richie got stuck in to updating the accounts, and soon he was surrounded by little piles of paper and swearing at the computer for turning perfectly straightforward calculations into a spreadsheet that seemed to tell them they were millionaires. By the time lunch rolled around he needed the break, and since hardly anyone had dropped in all day he figured Mac didn't need him for a while. He said his goodbyes to Mac and left, grinning at the thought of what he'd find when he got home. That morning Methos had promised something very special for his lunch, and with Methos that probably meant the food was secondary.

***

Once Rich had left his apartment that morning Methos took a shower and finished breakfast. He was in a really good mood. In fact, he kept on catching himself wandering around with a rather stupid looking grin all over his face. He tried to replace it with a more dignified expression, but even putting three day old clothes back on couldn't dampen his mood. As he headed out to his hired car he was actually whistling. The weather was cold, wet and miserable but the whole world looked bright this morning. His hotel room was as small and dingy as he remembered it, but he hadn't really spent much time there anyway.

As he changed into fresh clothes he came to a decision. In the week and a half he'd been in town, he had paid for this room every day, but only ended up using it once, and then Richie had been there. Why keep on wasting money? That decided, he repacked his bag and wandered downstairs to check out, still grinning. Even the desk clerk's refusal to give him back his deposit didn't ruin his good mood. It had only been one chair, old but not the antique they seemed to be charging him for. Admittedly, it probably hadn't been designed for two adult men, but he really hadn't expected it to fall apart like that. Still, he walked back to his car in high spirits.

He went shopping for ingredients for what he had in mind for lunch. Chocolate, strawberries, champagne, way more than they could consume for one meal, but he was celebrating. And he didn't really expect to do much eating anyway. The check out girl wondered vaguely why he was smirking quite like that as he handed over the money.

Back to the car, and back to Richie's place. He took his bag up first, then went back to the car for the shopping, grinning again. //Face it, Methos, there isn't anything that can break this mood. You're in love with someone who loves you, and the world is good.// He reached in to the car to get the shopping bags.

Right then there was a muffled crack and a sharp impact in his back. Looking down at the blood spurting out the hole in his chest into the back of his car, he had time to think vaguely, //Okay, anything except that.//

***

 

Mac was sitting in his office idly reading the paper when Richie phoned.

"Hello, DeSalvo's..."

"Mac! Something's happened to Methos... I mean Adam... I mean..." Richie said, sounding panicked.

"Richie, calm down. What..."

"His car is right outside, there's groceries all around it, the trunk's open and there's blood and a bullet hole in the back. He's nowhere Mac. There's no pool of blood, no footprints, nothing. He can't of just wandered off and left all the doors open, he would have left a note... Mac, he would have got back hours ago, he's just gone!" Rich blurted out.

"Rich, you sure there's nothing? And a bullet hole..."

"Yeah, Mac, I've seen enough to know. No body, no Immortal, nothing. He's not there is he? He hasn't phoned you?"

"No, I haven't heard from him since last night. What do you..."

"I tried phoning Joe but he's not answering. I'm going over there, Mac, I'll meet you there. -click-..." and Richie had put the phone down and probably left, hardly letting Mac get a word in edgewise in the whole conversation.

"He doesn't have a Watcher, Rich..." Mac swore and pressed the ring back button, but the phone just rang, not even letting the answer phone pick up. He shoved the phone down and grabbed his coat.

***

When MacLeod got to Joe's, Richie spared him barely a glance before going back to his argument. Joe was up, grouchy, looking rather worse for wear and coughing occasionally, but Richie hardly noticed. He was trying to get information about Methos, and he wasn't going to let logic put him off.

"Joe, you've got to know something. I know, you're not watching him, but maybe my Watcher saw him. Or maybe there's a new Immortal in town you could find out about. Or maybe..."

"Richie! I keep telling you, I don't have that kind of information. I cannot help you. This isn't about Watcher vows, it's about damn near every Watcher in this area being down with flu except a few research staff, and I wasn't about to send them out in the field. As far as I know, you three are the only Immortals in town, but the damn Gathering could be happening down the block and we wouldn't have the manpower to cover it! Anyway, Immortals do not shoot Immortals. It's usually mortals who do that. Adam probably got mugged and they hid the body somewhere. Did you check the garbage cans?"

"Yes, I checked the bins, I checked the alley, I went blocks in every direction looking for signs of a Quickening. There was nothing Joe. And a mugger would not have left Adam's wallet and keys lying there on the seat of a very expensive car while they went for a walk with his body!"

"Rich, this isn't helping. Just calm down," Mac interjected helpfully.

"Calm down? Mac, Methos could be _**dead**_!"

"We don't know that."

"If he is, I want you to promise me one thing. I get the guy that took him."

"Richie..."

"Mac, this is important to me. You know why. If somebody's killed him I want that Quickening. Swear to me."

"Rich..."

"Mac! You have to let me do this."

"Look, okay, just calm down, sit down and..."

They both stopped and turned to the door as they felt the approach of another Immortal, Richie's face hopeful, Mac more worried.

The tall, blonde, muscular figure in the expensive suit that entered was not familiar. At least not to Richie.

"Konoval," MacLeod swore, reaching for his sword. "Where is he?"

"Good to see you again too, Highlander. Been a long time. We have some unfinished business, I think," Konoval smiled arrogantly and swaggered towards the bar...

===  
Flashback, America old west  
===

MacLeod looked up from his corner of the nearly empty saloon as the latest arrival was heralded by the distinctive buzz of Immortality. The man that entered was unfamiliar to him, and seemed supremely indifferent to any possible threat. He was tall and muscular, heavily built even for an Immortal, and his clothes looked like they were expensive under the trail dust. He shook the dust off his hat as he let his eyes get accustomed to the light, probably taking the time to check for the Immortal he felt, but he didn't acknowledge MacLeod in any way. He just swaggered over to the bar and tossed some money on it, the barkeep getting him a bottle of whisky and a glass without being asked. He wore two guns arranged for a quick draw, and a cavalry sabre.

"Any work come in for me?" the new arrival asked.

"One or two you might be interested in. Not much for the price you set," the barkeep replied, pulling out some scraps of paper from a tin under the bar.

"You get what you pay for, and folk are going to know if they pay for me they get the best," the man said confidently, gulping down his whisky. "Someday Jack Konoval is going to be more famous than Billy the Kid or Wyatt Earp." He put the glass down and poured himself another, missing the sceptical look on the barkeep's face. "Meantime, I'm going to get stinking rich," he grinned and toasted the thought.

"I'll drink to that," the barkeep agreed. "So, most expensive first? He won't be easy."

"They never are. That's half the fun," Konoval grinned evilly.

The barkeep sorted through the papers and rolled one out in front of him. It was a sketch, with a rather impressive number underneath.

Konoval took the paper and turned it over, reading the notes on the back. "A face, a location, and a reward paid in gold. It don't get much sweeter than this."

"Or much more dangerous. They say he's faster than an angry rattlesnake."

"I've heard that before. Trust me, if it comes to shooting, I'll be the one to walk away." Konoval rolled up the paper and put his hat back on. "Well, time's wasting."

"You watch your back, Jack. The man you'll be working for has a worse rep than the one you're after."

"Maybe, but he made a deal with me and he's going to stick to it. A deal's a deal. If a man can't keep his word, what has he got?" Konoval paused a moment to give a favourite line its deserved space then concluded with a feral grin "Me right behind him is what."

He turned and stalked out as the barkeep scooped up his money, shook his head and went back to his regular work, such as it was.

MacLeod shrugged and paid the incident no more thought. Just another bounty hunter. He didn't expect to bump into him again.

A couple of days later he was proved wrong.

He was out at the Lowry ranch, not his favourite place but he had to get some food and water before heading off again, when Konoval turned up at the gate with a bound man slung across his saddle. Old man Lowry was called to see to it.

Konoval stood there, watching all Lowry's men whilst trying to appear to be paying them no attention. Lowry came over and yanked the bound man's head up so he could see who it was.

"One thief and murderer, as ordered," Konoval said, waving at the prisoner. "It said dead or alive." He grabbed the man's belt and pulled him out of the saddle, letting him hit the ground hard and grinning at the muffled grunt of pain.

Lowry stared at the man on the floor for a moment, then turned to face Konoval and shrugged. "I would have preferred dead."

Konoval just got out a gun and shot the man. MacLeod was more than half inclined to object, but there was nothing could be done for the poor bastard now, and far too many men around to fight. That was the closest to justice a man got around here anyway.

"Now, payment was to be in gold," Konoval said as he put his gun away, all business.

Lowry waved towards his house. "Come on in, I'll have the money ready by morning."

Konoval followed him up to the house, but Mac just shook his head, finished packing and left. Sometimes he really didn't think much of the so-called civilised people in this country.

He didn't go far before he made camp that night, and the next day he travelled at a relaxed pace too, so by the morning after that he was still close enough to Lowry's for the search parties to find him when they set out.

Three men caught up to him riding hard, stopping more than easy shooting distance away to yell over to him.

"Did you see Old Man Lowry or Konoval headed this way?"

"No, I've seen no one," MacLeod responded truthfully.

"Lowry's missing, some of the boys said they saw Konoval around before he went. You sure you ain't seen them?"

"I'm sure, but I'll gladly help search."

"That would be good. We haven't halfway enough boys to look everywhere, and we can't even split up if Konoval's out there waiting for us," they replied as Mac rode over to join them.

"Man, I told him, I told Lowry he shouldn't never think of crossing Konoval. That man's got more lives than a house full of cats. We should of just paid him."

"I still say it can't be him. That man was..." quick look to the new guy in the group "... long gone before last night."

Dead, MacLeod translated. They'd tried to not pay him, and the other Immortal had decided to pay them back in kind. Not a good business for anyone. Still, he helped search.

And he was with the party that found Lowry's body, or what was left of it. Nature's recycling system had taken care of most of it, and now all that was left were bones, and blood. A lot of blood. Blood that had been pumping when it left him. However Konoval had killed him, he'd taken his time over it.

MacLeod turned away from the scene in disgust, his hand going to his sword hilt as he thought of what kind of man would do something like that. Then a flash of light from the rocks above them caught his eye.

He looked up and there it was again, a good distance away but with a clear line of sight. Konoval. Looking over his work. Mac's face set angry and he spurred his horse up the trail towards Konoval's hiding place, the others in the party barely noticing him leave.

Konoval was standing calmly waiting for him, his arrogant grin firmly in place.

"Looking for me? Well, you've found me. If we're going to have a disagreement we might as well get it over with up here," Konoval said confidently.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Duncan said, drawing his sword.

"Jack Konoval. Whenever you're ready," Konoval replied. He stood still and loose as Mac stepped slowly towards him, then suddenly he was a blur of motion as he struck out. MacLeod barely side-stepped the blow, and sent one of his own at Konoval's back with about equal success. Then the battle was joined in earnest.

The two opponents circled each other, both using a sweeping style of cuts and slices, trying to do serious damage with the razor sharp long edge of their swords. Both parried by turning the blows aside and tried to sweep under the other's guard as they did so. It was a very even match, and Duncan still wasn't sure how it was going to turn out when the others from the search party turned up, having finally noticed he was missing and guessed where he was going.

When Konoval saw them coming up the trail he disengaged and dashed for his horse. Duncan took a few steps after him, but he was mounted and galloping before the search party reached the top of the rocks. Duncan just put his sword away quickly, hoping no one noticed and asked any awkward questions, but they were all out for blood. The only question ever asked about the incident was why he hadn't joined in the chase. He answered, truthfully, that however rich he thought he was Konoval just wasn't worth very much. He'd never tried to finish that fight.

===  
Present day, Joe's bar again...  
===

It was a decision he was regretting now.

Before he'd really thought about it he halted Konoval's progress to the bar with a katana at his neck.

"MacLeod!" Joe hissed. Right now they were alone in there, but that could change any time.

"No, Joe, if this guy knows where Adam is we're going to find out. One way or another," Richie said, moving up to cut off any possible retreat.

"Easy or hard, huh kid?" Konoval said lazily, acting quite unconcerned about the razor sharp metal currently just biting into his vulnerable area. "Well, let's make it easy." He reached casually inside his coat and drew out two weapons as he continued talking. "Yeah, I know where he is. And I'm willing to make a deal," he said, tossing Methos' sword and dagger onto the floor at Duncan's feet. Duncan and Richie just stared at them a moment with a rather sick feeling.

"No deal. Just tell us," MacLeod said harshly.

Konoval just smiled. "MacLeod, I'm not that stupid. I don't get back in time, Pierson dies, for good. So, I know you are going to let me walk out of here whenever I want, and you can put that bit of metal away. You're just making us both look silly."

Mac didn't move. Konoval looked him in the eye and grinned, his absolute self confidence going way over the border into arrogance, but making it more than likely he was telling the truth. Mac slowly and reluctantly lowered his sword, hiding it in his coat again, just about.

Konoval twitched his shoulders to settle his expensive tailored suit onto his shoulders better, then finished walking over to the bar. He flicked his coat back as he sat down so his sword hilt was visible at his side, looking like it was made of gold. From what Mac had heard about this guy, it probably was.

"Whisky," he dismissively ordered Joe, who was still standing behind the bar. Joe reluctantly went to fill his order, since he realised getting in the middle of this could be rather more difficult to get over than his flu.

"Well?" Mac demanded, standing near enough to Konoval to make his menace quite clear.

Konoval waited for his drink to arrive, then sipped it appreciatively as Joe disappeared again.

"It's simple," he said finally. "Straight swap." He looked right at the Highlander's eyes. "Your head for his. Tonight, no negotiation, no deals but this one. You let me take your head, he walks. Otherwise I doubt you'll be seeing him again this side of hell."

Mac's fingers went white around his sword hilt. "What makes you think I would take that deal?"

Konoval shrugged and gulped the rest of his drink before standing up and heading for the door. "Your choice. Makes no difference to me."

Richie blocked his way.

Konoval just looked at him with total disinterest. "You mind getting out of my way kid?"

Rich was furious, but he bit it back enough to ask a coherent question. "When and where?"

Konoval laughed. "You going to make him come, kid? Cause I've got to tell you, you just aren't worth enough to me. It's the Highlander or nothing."

Rich spaced the words out for added emphasis. "When... and... where."

Konoval shrugged. "Midnight, warehouse out near the docks." He pulled a small business card with the address scrawled on it out of his pocket and waved it under Rich's nose. "Don't go thinking to try anything smart, kid. I'll be one step ahead of you."

Mac reached out and grabbed the card out of his hand. "I'll be there," he said.

Konoval raised an eyebrow, then just turned and walked out, pushing past Richie like he was a swing door. "I'll look forward to it, Highlander," he called back, then left, his buzz fading out before a car started up and pulled away outside.

Richie looked at Mac and reached for the card he held. Mac pulled it out of his reach and shoved it in his pocket.

"Mac... I _am_ going to challenge this guy. If not tonight then as soon as I catch up to him. Give me the address."

"No Richie. It's me he's after, it's my fight. Don't worry, I'll make sure Adam's all right."

"Oh, sure you will, right before Konoval whacks you. Give me the address, Mac. This is _my_ fight."

"Richie..."

"What's going on, guys? What happened?" Joe asked, returning to the room.

Both Richie and Mac turned to look at him then went silent.

Mac shook his head. "I'm sorry Joe. There's been a challenge issued, we have to take care of it from here." Mac hesitated a moment, picked up Methos' weapons, then turned and walked out of the bar.

"Richie..?"

Rich just picked up his reassuringly heavy black leather coat and followed Mac. "We'll see you later," he called back on he way out. Mac and he weren't agreeing on much right then, but neither of them wanted the mortal involved in this. They had too few friends to risk losing another.

"Hey Richie, MacLeod, wait a..." Joe yelled after them, then had to stop when he started coughing again, nasty chesty coughs. It took him a few minutes to get his breath back, and by then the two Immortals were long gone. "Damn." he muttered, then headed for the phone. Epidemic or no, there had to be _someone_ who could cover MacLeod, and he was going to make damn sure they were there tonight. He didn't want to have to hear about his friends dying from the morning papers.

***

By the time Richie got out of the bar, Mac was in his T-Bird and pulling away. Rich climbed on his bike and following, never falling far enough behind to lose the sense of him, but Mac was only headed to the dojo anyway. By the time he got there he was mad enough to slam the car door and try and ignore Richie as they went in.

By the time they were in the same room again they were both in the loft and the coat with the address in the pocket was gone.

"Mac..."

"Richie, this is my fight. He challenged me. You heard what he said, we've got unfinished business. The last time we fought we got interrupted, this time there won't be any distractions. I want his head and I'm going to have it." Mac said angrily, trying to sound as bloodthirsty as possible.

Richie wasn't buying it. "No way Mac. This isn't about you and him, it's about Methos, _me_ and Methos. Konoval has him, he's maybe even killed him. You said, if Methos dies, I get to avenge him. You promised."

Mac didn't bother to point out that promise had never been spoken. It was a valid point and they both knew it. He corrected Rich on something else instead. "Methos isn't dead. Konoval's keeping him alive. We have a deal, and until I break it he won't."

"Oh yeah, right. This guy's honourable or something? Give me a break, Mac, he's playing with us. There's no guarantee he won't just take your head and then have Methos for desert."

Mac disagreed. "Richie, I've known or known of Konoval for a long time. He's got a reputation, mostly a bad one, but he always sticks to a deal. It's the only way people can trust him enough to pay him and not worry he'll stab them in the back while they deliver the gold. And he loves his gold."

"Fine, so we distract him with jewellery while I take his head. Not relevant, Mac. Tell me where he is, I'm going there."

"Richie, I can't let you risk it. Konoval's good. And we both know I'm still better with a sword than you. I'll take the challenge. He challenged me and I will fight him."

"Mac, he didn't challenge you, he said your head for Methos'. You go in there expecting a fight and he will probably just take Methos' head to get him out the way. He doesn't want to fight you Mac, he just wants you dead. Could you just stand there while Konoval takes your head if it meant saving Methos? Are you willing to die for him Mac? I don't think you are. I am. Like I died for you," Rich hissed, pulling out all the stops to try and make MacLeod see sense.

"No one's dying for anyone tonight, Richie. I can't let you fight Konoval. I can't let you risk that again," Mac replied

"You can't shelter me forever either, Mac. I've taken challenges, I've taken heads, more than you know about. And you know I'm good. Good enough for this."

"Maybe, but I'm still better. I..."

"Mac, you don't get it. I don't care if you're better, _Konoval... hurt... Methos_. I cannot just let him walk away after that."

"Look, Rich, I know what you and Methos have done is important to you..."

"Important ... Mac, what Methos and I have is more important than you can possibly..." Rich gulped as the emotion became too strong for words, then turned away for a moment and put his hands through his hair trying to pull his thoughts together.

"Look, Mac..." Rich said, turning back to face him, his tone half command and half plea. "...if it were Tessa, if she had been taken and someone challenged me about it, even if I were the better swordsman, would you let me have that fight?"

Mac didn't answer that directly, faced with either the answer Richie wanted or a flat out lie. Rich watched him understand and nodded.

"I've _got_ to do this, Mac. Can't you see that?"

Mac looked at the floor, unable to face that intense gaze. Rich nodded and sighed and wandered over to the window to think.

"You and him, you think it's like I had with Tessa?" Mac asked quietly.

"Maybe," Rich sighed, turning to face him again and struggling to find the right words. "I mean, he's not Tessa, but..."

"You love him," Mac stated simply, for once no judgement in the statement.

"Yeah," Rich agreed sort of sadly, his blue eyes pleading for understanding.

For once Mac simply couldn't ignore it. With everything that had happened, he understood. He couldn't pretend otherwise.

"Mac, please. I've got to do this," Rich said simply.

And he was right. It was just a statement of fact. This was Richie's fight.

"Konoval's expecting me. If I don't show up..."

"So, he's expecting you, he gets you."

"And if he wants me to give up my head?"

Richie looked him directly in the eye, and with quiet resolve he said "Then you lay down your sword, and you give it to him."

MacLeod nodded.

***

Methos woke, every muscle complaining at the lack of oxygen his temporary death had caused, but he stifled the instinctive first gasp for air as he tried to ascertain more about his situation.

He was tied up, rather tightly. Taking a deep breath would be difficult anyway. He couldn't sense another Immortal, which made sense since his head was still attached. On the other hand it was somewhat alarming since the only mortal enemies that came to mind from this lifetime were Hunters and perhaps Watchers, if they had discovered his Immortality.

He seemed to be under a bright light, but before he risked opening his eyes he listened carefully, gathering as much information as he could. Wherever he was it sounded large, air movements creating echoes, and it was cold. The damp, chilly weather had left condensation all over whatever it was he was tied to, and a certain stickiness suggested not all the damp was water. He realised his throat was dry and he was extremely thirsty. Dehydration, probably from blood loss. Great. He had definitely been dead then.

He also realised his thoughts were still a bit fuzzy. That worried him more than anything, as his mind was his one advantage right now.

He had not heard any sounds of movement, so he risked half opening his eyes and taking a quick look at his surroundings. He was under a powerful light, one of very few in the large dark warehouse that seemed to be working. Right in front of him, only a few inches from his face, was a camera on a tripod with a speaker beside it and a long cable leading off into the darkness. The moment his eyes flickered open, the speaker clicked on and someone spoke to him.

"So, you're awake already. Inconvenient. I'll have to gut you again before we're ready to ship you."

Whoever was speaking didn't sound like he was too displeased at the prospect. As it would have been a simple matter just to leave a knife stuck in him, Methos concluded this man was one sick bastard. A type he had long experience with.

A door clanked open from one end of the long room, out in the darkness his light adjusted eyes couldn't see into. As footsteps approached he felt the cacophony of sensations that signified the presence of another Immortal. His captor was Immortal? Then why was he still alive? Not that he was complaining, but there were some very uncomfortable possibilities.

The other man stepped into the light in front of him. He was tall, blonde, not bad looking in a way, but with a very ugly expression on his face. He looked almost hungry, staring at the prisoner bound helpless to the pillar before him.

Methos saw the man was holding a long hunting knife, but his sabre was still sheathed at his side. He looked around quickly for his own sword, not that it was much use to him in his present predicament. His captor missed none of this.

"Don't bother, your weapons aren't anywhere you could get to them. I like to eliminate all the random factors I can. I'm not a gambling man, I make my money on sure things. Like a trussed up academic who apparently has something in his head that's worth a million dollars." He ran the flat of the blade down the side of Methos' face. "Now that makes me wonder, are you worth more to him or to me? What is it he wants to know?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Methos croaked, trying without success to get some moisture in his mouth. "You must have made a mistake, I'm..."

"Adam Pierson, grad student, likes beer, used to live in poky little garrets in Paris then started jetting around the world. Some place in the far east, and Seacouver."

Methos kept his expression carefully controlled, a bit resentful, a little frightened, but he hid the relief he felt that this man only knew this latest identity.

He continued, "Home of Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander, who also lived in Paris for a while. You know him? I think you do. What is he to you?" the man asked, watching Methos' eyes. He moved the knife down to lightly touch his neck, then asked "More importantly, what are you to him?"

"You mean am I worth more than a million dollars? Ask him, you might be surprised." Methos encouraged this line of thought, since even if Mac didn't have quite that much money it bought him time.

The other man chuckled nastily. "Actually, I mean are you worth him losing his head over." He paused a moment to let that one sink in, still watching his prey's eyes. Then he continued. "Personally, I doubt it. But letting him go again would just be wasteful. Waste not, want not. And I want his head. So, I made the offer. Either you'll wake up with him dead, or you'll wake up in England ready to tell your new owner whatever it is you know. Something to think about." He grinned widely and moved the knife down to Methos' chest, then lingered a moment to savour the effect of his words.

England. Arthur. Damn. That meant the information that was so important was how to rule the world, and although this was obviously the time the bounty hunter expected his prey to start bargaining for his life, Methos couldn't immediately think of anything that would buy him out of this situation. He played for time, hoping this man liked to boast as much as his type usually did.

"When I wake up, I'll find the Highlander untying me. I'm not worried about MacLeod. I don't know who you are, but if you were anyone who could be any challenge to him I'm sure I would have heard of you."

"The name is Konoval, and who said anything about challenge? His head or your life. Win-win situation. The best kind. You going to offer me anything better?" Konoval said, digging in with the tip of the knife. Methos flinched away, and tried to think exactly what to offer him, but before his still fuzzy brain came up with anything, Konoval finished "Didn't think so." And shoved the knife into his chest with a vicious twist. The last thing Methos saw before he died was the gloating smirk on Konoval's face.

***

Mac checked his watch carefully. Time. He walked in to the warehouse, sword held ready, his pace determined but unhurried. As he neared the room he had been directed to he felt the presence of another Immortal, but not the particular combination of sensations that he had associated with Methos ever since the double Quickening had joined them. A cold knot formed in his stomach, but he kept going at the same pace.

As he reached the door Konoval called out to him "Highlander, so good of you to join us. Please, come in. I'm sure you're just dying to see your friend again."

Mac took a deep breath and stepped through into the large, dimly lit room.

Konoval was standing in front of a pillar in the middle of the warehouse, one of the few bulbs that worked illuminating both him and the limp form he held in front of him like a shield. Methos. For the moment he was dead, but his head was still attached. Duncan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"As you can see, I haven't done anything permanent. Yet. But I have no intention of fighting you. Put down your sword, or your friend dies now," Konoval told him, holding his sabre to the ancient's throat. He held the body tilted away from him so as not to get any blood on his expensive suit.

"You swear, you'll let him go," Mac asked, holding his sword out away from himself.

"That's the deal. And you can say what you like about me, but I never back out on a deal. He's only worth money, you get me that much closer to the prize. What's one academic compared to that?" Konoval shrugged. "So, are you going to fill your end of the bargain?"

Mac nodded slowly, looked at his sword, then tossed it a little more than half way towards Konoval.

The bounty hunter laughed. "You know I never thought you would actually do it? Honour and friendship. There's no percentage in it. You lose everything, and for what? He isn't worth it," he sneered, then unceremoniously shoved Methos' body aside and ignored him completely as he strolled forwards, concentrating on the Highlander and the Quickening he was about to get. Methos however was not going to be much help. The nasty chest wound had begun healing, but he would be out of action for quite some time yet.

Mac stood quite still as Konoval walked towards him, swinging his sabre through the air as if to feel the weight of it but really watching MacLeod's eyes as three feet of gleaming death whisked past his face. Mac kept his expression stony.

Konoval stopped, standing between MacLeod and his sword, and pointed at Mac with his sabre. "On your knees," He commanded softly, a vicious smirk on his face.

Mac's expression flickered as his first impulse was to object, but he glanced over at Methos' still body and for once swallowed his pride. He knelt down.

Konoval chuckled and shook his head. "Makes me glad I don't have friends. Who'd want them, when this is all it gets you?" he asked, and raised his sword to strike.

"Oh, I don't know, there are some advantages," A voice called from the shadows beside them. Konoval swung round instinctively to look for the new threat, and in the moment he was distracted MacLeod rolled past him, grabbed his katana, and came up between Konoval and Methos, sword ready.

Konoval looked back at Mac, started to bring his sword around, but then Richie stepped out into the light and he realised he was no longer the predator in that room. He was the prey.

Richie smiled slowly, with far more teeth than warmth, and raised his sword. "You have two options, Konoval. You face the Highlander, or you face me. Take my advice. Choose him."

Konoval backed up until he could see both of them at once, totally surprised. The way the two had approached simultaneously he hadn't been able to tell the buzz came from two Immortals, and the second man's black clothes had hidden him in the shadows up to this point. Konoval asked "And who might you be?"

"Richie Ryan."

Konoval looked over at the Highlander, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, then back at Richie. He made his choice. "Jack Konoval. You and I need to take this elsewhere, I think."

"Fine by me. Not too far, I want to get this over with."

"Not a problem." Konoval replied, getting his bravado back, and gestured to the side door Richie must have broken open to get in. "Shall we?"

Rich turned to give Konoval just enough space to walk past without being in sword reach. "Yeah, I think we shall." he waved for Konoval to go first.

"Rich..." Mac started to say.

"Get him some place safe," Richie ordered, cutting him off. "I'll take care of Konoval." He stared at MacLeod, his determination quite evident. Reluctantly, Mac nodded. Richie turned back to Konoval, and gestured for him to lead on.

"Really, people are just lining up to lose their heads over this guy. Must be really great in bed," Konoval sniped as he walked off.

Richie's sword arm twitched but he managed to keep himself in check as he followed Konoval off into the darkness.

That left MacLeod standing in an empty warehouse with Methos' body at his feet, the two Immortal buzzes of Richie and Konoval fading out as they walked off. Mac sheathed his katana and gently picked up the ancient Immortal, then carried him back to the car. With foresight born of experience he had covered the passenger seat in plastic, so when he strapped in Methos' body it didn't do any permanent damage to the upholstery. Details like that would be funny if they weren't so damn tragic.

He realised he was concentrating on daft little things to try and keep his mind off the fight that even now could be going on. Wherever they had gone he could neither sense nor hear them. He could go looking for them, but he couldn't interfere even if he found them, and the sense of him approaching could be a distraction at a crucial moment... better to stay away. Every instinct he had said otherwise, but reason had to rule.

He got in the car. To stay or to go. Well, Rich had said to get Methos to safety. They still didn't know how Konoval had captured the ancient, or if he was using any mortals. Watchers thought not, but Watchers were stretched thin with this bloody flu epidemic and the few that were still on their feet had three known Immortals to keep track of, and they had not been entirely successful. Better to get the old man to somewhere he knew would be safe. MacLeod started the car and pulled off headed for the dojo. Richie would know to look for them there.

If he survived.

***

Methos awoke this time lying on something soft, in a warm room, with no uncomfortable stickiness. He could sense another Immortal, but the presence had a familiar feel to it he had come to associate with MacLeod. Methos smiled and opened his eyes, breathing as deeply as his body wanted this time. He was clean and dry in some spare clothes of MacLeod's. //Interesting// , imagining the proud Scotsman cleaning him before he woke.

"Welcome back," Mac said, and handed him a tall glass of orange juice. Not his usual drink, but in his present dehydrated state any amount of alcohol would make him very drunk indeed. Methos took the glass and drank thirstily. When he had finished, Mac took the empty glass, and handed him another. Methos smiled his gratitude, and drank that quickly too. Then MacLeod took both glasses back over to the refrigerator, still without having said anything else. Methos sensed not all was well.

"So, what happened?" he queried. Mac didn't answer straight away. Methos got up and walked over towards him, but Mac wouldn't look at him. Methos' fears crystallised around a conspicuous absence. "Where's Richie."

Mac put the drinks down and answered without turning round. "I let him challenge Konoval."

Methos' expression hardened. "You did _what_?"

Mac turned around to face him. "It was his right. For a while after we found you were missing we didn't even know if you were still alive. Richie went nuts. He made me promise if we found who had taken you, he would be the one to challenge them. I understand how important you are to him, it was his right to avenge you."

"And here was I thinking he was important to you too. Where is he MacLeod? What's happened to him?"

Mac looked at the floor and barely whispered "I don't know." He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, then forced himself to continue. "He and Konoval went off someplace to fight. He told me to take you somewhere safe. We didn't know who else might be around there so I brought you back here. That was half an hour ago."

"You just left him there to fight?"

"We fight alone, what good could I do by staying?"

"MacLeod, Konoval shot me in the back from far enough away I couldn't feel him coming. Whatever he has in mind for Richie I doubt a fair fight ever comes into it. He is a sick bastard who gets off on other people's pain, and you left Richie to face him alone?"

"I had to!" Mac hissed back at him, "It's what we do, remember? It's the rules. There can be only one." He walked past Methos and slammed a fresh juice on the table beside him, then walked over to stare out the windows.

Methos glared at his back for a moment, then picked up the glass and went over to stand next to him. The view was patchy, mostly of the building across the street and a couple of parked cars, but Mac wasn't really seeing it anyway.

Methos sipped at his drink while trying to think of what to say next. The hell of it was MacLeod was mostly right. It was just the thought of losing Richie... again... But Rich had been practising, and he was a naturally talented swordsman. Methos looked at the Highlander's tortured expression as he gazed out over the city and sighed.

"He'll be alright, MacLeod," Methos said, reassuring himself as much as Mac. "You taught him well."

"Ha. And that will help against a gun," Mac replied.

"Rich isn't stupid, he..." a distant light lit up the sky over in the area where they had retrieved Methos. The ancient one went quiet as light flickered and reflected off the clouds, dread filling him. He was too distant to feel anything, but there was no doubt in his mind that light came from a Quickening.

Mac could feel it. Ever since he had held Richie's Quickening there had been a bond between them, growing stronger with time. He had come to recognise the distinct Presence of the young Immortal, and whenever Rich took a head Mac felt a peculiar, personal echo, like some part of him was feeling it too. Like right now.

Relief flooded him as the small sensation built up in a way that was familiar from previous battles, growing louder in his mind, and he was sure Richie had won and this was the echo of Konoval's Quickening.

Then outside the light flashed brightly and the feeling stopped.

Not faded out like other times, not dropped away until it faded into the hum of ones own life, just... died. "Oh god..."

Methos had seen the expressions chasing across MacLeod's face, relief wiped away by gut wrenching fear and loss... "Mac, we don't know who..."

"I felt it Methos. Oh God, I _felt_ it," Mac said, slumping against the wall like his knees wouldn't take his weight any more.

"What did you feel? The Quickening? From here?" Methos asked incredulously.

"Yes, from here. From anywhere. Ever since..." //I killed him...// "...the demon, when Rich takes a head..."

"So he won, he's alive?" Methos asked, allowing himself to hope.

Mac shook his head. "No, you don't understand. It wasn't like the other times. Methos, I think I felt him die."

//No. No, not again.// He couldn't take this again. How could he live through losing him... "You're sure?" he whispered, not quite able to breathe, the news hitting him like a physical blow.

Mac didn't reply, just closed his eyes on the tears forming there.

"You don't know for sure, do you? It's always different, MacLeod, it could just be that. And this link you say you feel, I've never heard of anything like it before."

"You don't feel it with us?"

"Well... perhaps. Since Bordeaux. But only when you are near enough to sense anyway, never from so far away. You can't know for sure what the feeling meant. If it's like you feel when Richie takes a head, then that is probably what it is."

"Maybe," Mac said dubiously.

"MacLeod, I am not giving up on Rich until I know for sure."

Mac met his intense gaze for a moment, then nodded. "You're right. We can't give up on him yet. If he's not... he'll be headed here, soon. We just have to wait," Mac finished, managing to sound almost positive by the end of the speech. Then a bike engine could be heard in the street below and they both strained to see. But of course, it wasn't Richie yet, and they both looked a little embarrassed at the other seeing how anxious they were.

"We just have to wait a few minutes. He'll be back soon," Mac reassured them both.

So they waited.

And minutes passed.

Methos finished the juice, and the coffee he made for them both, whilst Mac just stood at the window, staring sightlessly, jumping at every engine noise, and ignoring the coffee in his hands until it went cold.

And minutes turned to hours.

Methos sat perched on the edge of a chair, flicking through magazines, refusing to think too long about anything, his angular pose a sharp contrast to his usual sprawl. Mac still hadn't moved.

Shadows moved and the quality of the light changed as one lonely bird twittered his call to the sun.

Methos glared at Mac's still form and got up, pacing for the both of them, unable to keep his mind off the sickening suspicion....

Finally, the dawn came. Brilliant sunshine peeked under the roof of clouds and lit up the view. On any other morning it would have been beautiful.

Mac turned from the window, still not really seeing. He wandered across to the kitchen and plunked the coffee down, then wandered back to the middle of the room, stopping next to Methos as he stood watching him.

He voiced the thought the pair of them had been trying to avoid through all the long night.

"He's not coming back, is he?"

Methos just stood there, looking at the floor.

"Is he?" Mac asked again, looking up at him.

Methos couldn't meet his gaze.

Mac slumped down onto the bed behind them, his knees giving way as it finally, undeniably hit him. He was sure now.

Richie was dead.

A sob rose up from the very depths of his being and the tears he had held back all night poured down his face in torrents. This dawn brought no relief from nightmare, only confirmation of it. Mac covered his face with his hands and lost himself in the pain.

After a moment he felt arms around him, and he realised Methos was holding him. He also realised the ancient one must be in even more pain than he right then. Mac turned in Methos arms and wrapped the ancient Immortal in a bear hug, holding onto him tightly as if afraid he would slip away. Methos pulled away for a moment, then just buried his face in the Highlander's hair and cried.

***

Methos hurt. He hurt deep in his soul, where he thought no one could touch him any more. His heart had been ripped out yet again and every time it happened it felt worse. Losing Alexa had been bad, as bad as the time Rich had spent three days dead, but this time it hurt so much he didn't think he could survive it. Didn't want to survive it.

Yet the worst of it was, he knew he would. He would wake up in a year or ten years or a hundred years and the ache would just be one more familiar part of him. He would survive even this, and Richie was gone. Like so many others before him, enough the old man hardly dared count them all any more. He had never married an Immortal, but he had been involved with them before. And every time, sooner or later, every time he thought that he could relax just a little and hope the one he was with could watch a new century roll past with him, they died. Every single bloody time the Game swept down and he was alone again. So alone.

He held on tighter to the dark haired Scot crying in his arms, knowing that each of them needed reminding that the other was there right now. These weren't the arms he wanted holding him but at least they were someone. He wasn't the last yet. He kept crying into the younger Immortal's hair, just letting the pain spill out of him. It wouldn't be enough, but then what ever was?

"God, Methos, I am sorry. I am so sorry," Duncan sobbed against his chest. "I should have stayed when they fought, I should have made sure he stayed here. I should never have let him get involved."

"It's done, Duncan. You can't change it. You did what seemed right. Besides, since when has Richie listened to anyone when he didn't want to?" Methos said, privately wishing he could blame the Highlander, just to let out some of this anger he felt. But he'd been around too long to fall into that trap.

"Then I should have knocked him out, tied him up, something. Just kept him safe away from it."

"And leave him alone and vulnerable when Konoval decided to drop in again?" Methos sniffed, irritated the man couldn't even let him grieve without an angst attack getting in the way. "Let it go, Duncan. Let it go. Konoval is the only one to blame in all this."

"Konoval. You're right. We should be out looking for him. Now we don't have to wait for Richie.." pause and gulp. "We should hunt him, make sure he doesn't get away." Mac said, pulling away and trying to rise.

"Wait, Duncan, think for a minute. You can't face him like this. You're exhausted, on edge. I'm no better. And we won't have to look for him, he'll be coming for me. I'm worth a lot of money to a man who doesn't like to be crossed. Konoval isn't leaving until that business is done. He'll need to rest up too, we have time. Don't go charging off like this. Don't let him get to you." Methos said, his tone firm even through the tears.

What he didn't mention was he was less concerned for the Highlander's neck than he was to make sure he, Methos, got Konoval's Quickening, and with it Richie's. He pulled Duncan back down to the bed the were sitting on. Duncan was still looking stubborn.

"I can't afford to lose both of you in one night." Methos half whispered. Duncan's face crumpled again and the tears fell in torrents once more. Methos pulled him closer and let him cry on his shoulder again, quite willing to use underhanded tactics to get something this important, but not dead enough inside he could just leave his friend in pain because of it.

"I'm sorry," Duncan gulped again.

Methos was crying still, quietly but steadily. He couldn't imagine stopping for quite a while.

"I know you two.. loved each other." Duncan said, sitting straighter to look in Methos' eyes and make sure his friend saw there was no condemnation in that statement.

He realised he'd never really said he was okay with the relationship, in fact he'd said rather a lot right at the start to indicate quite the opposite. He didn't want the misunderstanding to continue. It had taken him a while, but he truly did understand how his friends could feel the way they did about each other.

"I really cared for him too. I used to worry about you two. I didn't see, couldn't let myself see, how right you were together. Then I just worried you'd... leave him..." he trailed off, realising that really wasn't the right way to say it right now.

Methos replied with a twisted half grin "Well you don't have to worry about that any more."

"I... I know... Methos, I'm so sorry," Duncan said, pulling his friend closer as he began to sob loudly again. "It's okay, I know, I know..." he whispered in his ear, his own eyes fuzzy from tears.

Methos' sobs were coming right from the depths of his pain now, shaking his whole body. //He knows, I know, Richie is dead so why can't he just leave it alone... leave me alone... gods I'm so alone...//

"You're not alone." Duncan whispered. Methos hadn't realised he was speaking aloud until then. Duncan was holding him, sharing warmth and comfort as much as he could, needing comfort just as much, needing him to stay, needing the man in his arms so much... "Never alone, Methos." he whispered against his cheek, then gently kissed him.

For a moment Methos didn't really notice what Duncan had done. He kept holding him, giving what support he could. He knew how hard this would hit him, the man had just lost a student after all. A student, friends, and more.

Then Duncan tilted his head a very gently kissed him on the lips, and neither man could ignore what was going on here.

Methos pulled away, half shocked, half noting this made a lot of little changes make sense. Duncan let him, aware he'd overstepped his bounds, trying to find some way to apologise. He just really didn't want to think much right now. Methos was here, alive, with him and needing him... he'd thought needing him...

"Methos I'm sorry, I just... I mean..."

Methos looked at his friend sitting there guilty and hurt and sad, this rejection just one extra loss in a day filled with way too many.

"It's just... I miss him, and..."

He missed Richie, so he was thinking of sex? //There's a few things they haven't been telling me. I'll have to ask... to ask...// He realised he couldn't ask Richie about it. Couldn't ask him anything, couldn't tell him things, couldn't be with him again... and he really didn't want to think about that right now. Didn't want to think about anything.

As Mac started to get up again, still stammering an apology, Methos grabbed hold of him and kissed him, hard.

Mac froze for a moment then kissed him back just as greedily. This wasn't comfort they were offering each other. Respite from grief was what they both wanted now and very quickly they managed drown out all thought in an overwhelming rush of need and sensation.

They tore each others clothes off as they backed up the bed, hands everywhere, tongues clashing and thrusting together.

...

Yet the moments of blessed relief couldn't last. They each took what comfort they could from the friend they were with, yet they could not stop their thoughts from once again turning to the man they both wished was sharing the bed with them. The sunlight through the windows only reminded them of his golden hair, and the brief blue patches of sky just brought to mind his blue eyes. As the morning wore on and turned all grey again, Duncan and Methos cried themselves to sleep in each other's arms.

***

Even exhausted as they were the two Immortals couldn't stay asleep for long. There was too much to do. They awoke in the early afternoon, the light gone grey again as the clouds covered everything. They didn't say much to each other to start with, just untangled themselves from where they had cried themselves to sleep together, got up and went over to start breakfast. The uncomfortable silence stretched until they were both sitting down with food, Mac with orange juice and cereal, Methos with beer and toast. Neither of them thought Methos' choice of drink so early particularly strange given the circumstances of this day.

"MacLeod, you'll have to take me back to where he was keeping me. I don't know where it was, and we need to look for Richie's body," Methos said, not looking at him, his tone quite flat.

Mac looked over at him shocked. "How can you just be so calm about...?"

"Calm, Highlander?" Methos said harshly, looking up at him. Mac flinched back at the depths of pain in those red rimmed eyes. "I loved that man more than life. But this time we don't get to bring him back. So, there are certain things we have to do."

Mac looked down and nodded, not really eating his food. "Methos... when I asked you to take my head that time, why didn't you?" he asked quietly.

Methos face softened and he reached over to take Mac's hand.

"I mean, you saw I'd just killed him, your lover. If I'd found you over Tessa's body..." Mac continued. His tone of voice was difficult to describe, like perhaps he missed the chance for peace back then.

"Mac... I can't say I didn't want to. We didn't know then that it was his choice, let alone that we could bring him back. Losing him was terrible. Is terrible. But Duncan, I didn't want to lose you too."

"I'm too important to lose," Mac said, with a trace of bitterness.

"Yes," Methos replied, squeezing his hand gently. "Friends always are."

They just looked at each other for a long moment, for once both understanding what the other meant. It was an intense moment, and Mac was secretly rather glad when the phone broke in. Still, he let it ring for a minute, before Methos let go of his hand and stood up to head for the bathroom. "You better get that," he said as he went.

Mac sighed then stared at the phone, wondering exactly who saw fit to try and continue with normal everyday life after the events of last night. With his luck it was probably someone phoning to complain about him not opening the dojo that day. He went over and picked it up.

"MacLeod," Mac said shortly into the phone.

"Mac, I got to talk to Adam, could you put him on?" Joe said urgently.

"He's in the bathroom. What..?"

"We've got trouble Mac. I found a Watcher to cover you guys last night. Only problem was it turns out he's worked with Adam before. He recognised him, he's already sent a copy of the report straight to Paris since that was where Adam worked. The organisation is going to know as soon as anyone gets back to work in the morning. We've got to get some damage control going fast or the tribunal is going to come down on all of us so hard..."

"Joe, I don't think he wants to deal with that right now," Mac said, his voice sounding both irritated and on the edge of tears.

"Why, what happened?" Joe asked, all unknowing.

Mac felt like swearing at him. The Watchers followed him around, spied on him every day, had records of everything from his favourite clothes to what he liked to eat for breakfast, and now they knew about 'Adam Pierson' being Immortal. Yet they didn't know what had happened last night? Mac counted to ten and tried to find a way to say it.

"Mac... what happened?" Joe asked again, concerned now.

"Joe... Richie's... he fought Konoval and..." Mac gulped and nearly started crying again.

"But I thought you were challenged..." Joe said then stopped as he realised what that must sound like to the already guilt ridden Scot.  
//Yeah, go ahead Joe, twist the knife why don't you.// He swore at himself, then mentally turned his anger on the researcher who had missed something that important. //Shit, I guess I know why they took you off field work now. Who fights who is just the core of the Chronicle, not like it was important or anything that none of us saw Richie... saw Rich...// he closed his eyes a moment. Then he realised he had been quiet too long so he put aside his own grief for his young friend and tried to repair some of the damage he had done with Mac. "Mac... I'm so sorry. I just thought since you and Adam were okay... I'm sorry. God, Rich was my friend too, you know I would never just butt in like this... I guess you'll be hunting Konoval now?"

"Yeah, though he'll probably be hunting us too. If you can get us a location..."

"I'll put all my people on it, such as they are. Konoval's Watcher should be here later today, seems she followed a false trail to Portugal or something... anyway, as soon as she picks him up again, you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks," MacLeod said, more resolve in his voice now he could focus on this task.

Joe hesitated a moment, but what he had phoned about in the first place really was important. "Mac... about the Adam Pierson thing..."

Methos was stepping out of the bathroom right then so Mac motioned him over to the phone and told Joe "Yeah, he's right here Joe. Talk to him." then handed over the receiver.

Methos took it, his face as blank as Mac had ever seen it. No sarcasm or humour to mask his emotions, they were too much for that. All he could manage was to keep control.

"Hello?" Methos said, then paused as Joe explained what had happened. Mac watched for a minute as his shoulders sagged and for a moment Methos looked infinitely tired. Then Mac turned away and used the bathroom himself as Methos and Joe started a fairly cryptic conversation that obviously referred to plans they had sketched out before. When he came out Methos was dressed in borrowed clothes that nearly fit, including a long white coat that undoubtedly hid the weapons Mac had left next to the bed earlier.

"I'm going to Joe's. I should be back in an hour or so. Have to get some things sorted out with the guy who saw me. He was more or less a friend, I think he might listen."

"I'll come with you," Mac offered, getting dressed quickly.

"No need, MacLeod. He'll be anxious enough about being seen with one known Immortal, let alone one as famous as you."

"So I'll keep out of the way. Konoval's still out there, and he still wants you. I'll watch your back while you take care of this."

Methos looked for a moment like he wanted to object, but if he was honest with himself he was glad of the Highlander's support right now, so he just shrugged and waited until Mac got ready and drove them both there.

Once outside the bar Methos paused a moment and closed his eyes with his head bowed. Up until then he had kept the blank, hard mask that made him look very much his age. Now when he looked up again Methos the oldest Immortal was gone, and Adam Pierson, grad student, ex-watcher, and very scared young Immortal was there. The change was difficult to define but easy to see. Suddenly he looked young, lost, like he was acutely feeling everything he had been through in the past twenty-four hours. Mac felt the same urge to protect this man that he had the very first time he met him, an urge he realised had to a degree worn off as he saw more of the real Methos. They walked into the bar together, new Immortal and Teacher to all appearances. Then Adam glanced over at Mac and they separated, Mac heading for the bar and Adam for a table in the far corner where his Watcher friends waited.

Adam walked over to the table where Joe sat with a young man who was wavering between staring at Adam and trying to pretend he didn't exist. Adam hesitated next to the table a minute then turned a chair around and sat down with his arms across the back, looking tired.

"Hi Joe, Phil. Guess you finally noticed then," he said, almost joking but sounding worried.

"Oh, I noticed alright. You know what a shock it was to follow MacLeod and find that other guy holding a sword to your neck? And you looked dead. It didn't make much sense. So, I see him put you in the car, I follow you back to his place, and half an hour later you're up and about again! How do you explain that Adam?" Phillipe, the young researcher, asked, agitated.

Adam rubbed a hand over his eyes and answered while looking at the table. "Simple. I'm one of them, Phil. Sorry you had to find out this way but..." he shrugged and looked over at Joe, eyes pleading. "Joe, I'm sorry, I know I should have told you. If I was going to tell any Watcher it would have been you, we've been friends a long time. But with everything that's happened with us and Immortals, with the Hunters and the tribunal and everything... I just didn't want to put you at risk like that."

Joe paused for a minute as if considering, then sighed. "Yeah, well, I can't say I'm not hurt. Shocked even. You, an Immortal. I can't think of anyone less likely... I mean, no offence, but..."

"Yeah, I know, but we come in all shapes and sizes you know. I've just got to find a decent library on holy ground and I might live to be a hundred. And a pub of course," Adam grinned.

"So, you're still young?" Phil asked.

"Phil, I am precisely as old as you thought I was," Adam replied sincerely. Joe nearly choked on his beer at the enormity of the lie, but covered his reaction before the other Watcher caught it.

"So, how did it happen? When did you find out about the Watchers, and why did you join us if you're one of them? God, I shouldn't be talking to you. You realise you're on the other side of our oath now. The trouble I could get in to..."

"Don't worry, it's not like you're giving me information. I know about Watchers already, I am a Watcher. That's still how I think of myself sometimes, you know. I loved the work, the research, touching times that have been gone for centuries, reading about lives that connect the earliest times with the modern world, the sense of continuity through it all. You realise somewhere out there is an Immortal who has seen and understood pieces of history we only learned about in school? It's still amazing to me. And here I am, supposed to be one. Have you any idea how much of a shock _that_ was?"

"So, what, you didn't know? I can't believe..."

"Phillipe, believe me, I had no idea," Adam replied sincerely. "One day I'm sitting at home quite happily working on the Methos chronicles, the closest I'd ever been to an Immortal reading about what they did three hundred years ago. The next Kalas is after Methos and thinks I'll lead him to him. Not that I could anyway, but he isn't about to listen to the problems of researching the legend, he just wants his head. So, I ran. He caught up to me on a bridge near my house, we fought, we ended up going over the railing. I blacked out for a bit, at least I thought I'd just blacked out. Woke up on a river bank, went home. The next time I saw Kalas was when I brought the police to arrest him. Only I didn't just see him, I sensed him. It was like... well, you can't really describe it. Somewhere between a song in your mind and a punch in the gut," Adam shrugged, looking dispirited.

"The Buzz. I mean, we used to call it..."

"Yeah, the buzz. I knew what it was. I just couldn't believe it. But it had happened. I hadn't liked being hunted one bit, and now I was meant to be part of the Game? No way."

"So you ran. We all thought it was just Don, the way he died, but really..." Phillipe filled in, interpreting everything exactly as planned.

Adam nodded. "Yeah, I ran. It was about Don, but not just that. I needed to get to Holy Ground, and fast. Everything was a mess. I'd made an oath to never interfere, so now what was I supposed to do? Even if I refused to fight, that was making a difference in the Game. Maybe not much of one, but the principle was the same. And I'd read about Immortals, not just the good ones that lived for art or learning but the ones that lived for the killing. They were out there, hunting each other, some of them hunting mortals too. Could I just sit back and let things happen? If the Gathering really is here..."

"Is it? I mean, I know we used to joke about it, make bets... God, you must think us so callous, the way we talked about you all."

Adam shrugged and fiddled with the beer that was still sitting untouched waiting for him. Adam Pierson, not drinking? He was really nervous about this.

"I used to make those bets too. Hell, some Immortals do as well, with and about their friends. With all the killing, you've got to cope somehow. Is it time? No one is certain yet, but every year there's no more young ones they get more convinced. Ryan was the youngest left, you know." At that the facade slipped a moment and his pain flickered briefly across his face. Joe caught it but Phil wasn't that good with people. He was still stuck on the whole idea of him being friends with an Immortal. He didn't even catch the past tense.

"So you could even be the one..." Phillipe said with some awe.

Adam just laughed, only a little bitterly. "Phil, I'm just a kid to them. If they decide the Gathering is here for real, that's it, it's over. They'll hunt the young ones just to clear the field." Adam half raised his glass then pushed it away. "I decided I didn't want that to happen. I want to live. Only trouble then was what to do about it," he sighed. "I'd just got about that far when the whole thing with the disk blew up. I don't know if you were around then?"

"Yeah, I was there. That was intense. A couple of days of not knowing if the whole thing would go public, not knowing how people would react... I mean, I was freaked out when I found out about them..." He paused and corrected himself soberly "I mean about you guys." pause again while he stared at Adam, trying to find some visible difference. Adam looked away, tired, and Phil had the decency to look embarrassed at treating his friend like something at a freak show. "You know MacLeod was actually in Watcher headquarters?"

"Yeah, I know. That was what gave me the idea. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, Immortal boy scout. I could go to him and be pretty sure he would help me. And he already knew about the organisation, I wouldn't be breaking my oath if I let a few things slip... I mean, not so much. I know, it's kind of a fine line. I haven't been going around giving him names or anything, it's just if I refer to something I learned out of the chronicles he understands."

"So he's your teacher now?"

"Yeah, he was." Adam looked over to where Mac was hovering at the bar and half grinned. "I know one end of a sword from the other, nowadays. But he still worries. You know MacLeod."

"Yeah. I can't believe we missed this. Dawson, how did we miss this? MacLeod had a student and we never even noticed!"

Dawson shrugged and looked embarrassed. "I knew Adam was in town, I even knew he was talking to MacLeod, but I do that and I'm no Immortal."

"I was beginning to worry," Phil remarked. Joe grinned then realised he had only been half joking.

He looked taken aback, then continued with his explanation, looking thoughtful and a bit annoyed. "With MacLeod running that dojo he's always teaching someone. How do you tell regular classes from an Immortal student? None of us got that close. You know how much falls through the gaps. You missed Ryan's death last night. Stuff that spectacular slips through, no wonder one quiet student doesn't get noticed."

"And no one's noticed you. You've been taking heads and..."

"Only twice. One time MacLeod was there, it probably got written up as his. I don't know about the other. I'll fill Joe in later when he starts up a chronicle on me. It's going to be pretty strange knowing everyone back in Paris can read about my life if they think up a decent excuse. Life on the other side of the microscope," Adam shrugged.

Phil hesitated a moment, then blurted out "What's it like?"

"The Quickening? Or killing someone," Adam asked in return, holding Phil's gaze until he blushed and looked away.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have asked."

Adam half-heartedly grinned. "You think if I had Methos sitting at this table with me I wouldn't ask everything I could think of? I know I'm not anyone special, but still, there are some things you can only know if you ask. And there are others you've just got to experience I'm afraid. Killing someone is a terrible thing, and the other... well, that just is. No way to describe it." Adam stared at the table for a while, then sort of sheepishly looked over at his two Watcher friends.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm still me. Some stuff has happened, but just being Immortal doesn't make me a head-hunting psychopath. I'd still rather sit around with a good book or listen to blues in good company. I'm just a guy."

Phil considered it a moment then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Adam. I'm not going to keep this secret for you, even if I could."

Adam blinked and looked surprised. "I wouldn't ask you to. I'm not much more than a footnote in the Chronicles right now, but I wouldn't want to be missed out entirely. I still believe in what we do. I was just hoping maybe we could still be friends?"

Phil looked sad, shook his head again and got up. "It's not like we've talked much since you left Paris anyway. No, Adam, I cannot be seen talking to Immortals. Maybe Joe gets away with it but I don't want to risk it. You won't be seeing me again. I'm going back to my books just as soon as this flu is over."

"You're going back to your books right now," Joe corrected. "You messed up last night. There's a closing report we've got to just guess at the details of and a body just lying around for the regular police to find. You know how much fuss that can cause. You are off active duty again, for good this time."

Phil winced slightly at being chewed out in front of others but nodded. "I'm sorry, sir, I know, but this is..."

"This could have waited. Go on, I'll talk to you later."

Adam looked at Joe and before Phil was out of earshot he asked "How about you and me, Joe? Are we still okay?"

Joe shrugged and replied a little loudly for the benefit of the retreating Watcher "What the hell, in for a penny and all that. Yeah, we're still okay. As long as you do like you said and fill me in on all the good stuff. Now the only problem is getting you a Watcher you don't know."

Then Phil had left the bar, and the three of them relaxed again. Mac wandered over to them while Methos dropped the persona again and drained the waiting beer.

"And you tried to tell me you weren't an actor," Mac said jokingly.

"Well I've never done Shakespeare but we all learn a few tricks for when we need them," Methos replied. "Joe, anything on Konoval?"

"Nothing yet. The office is still buzzing from this," Joe waved vaguely at Methos. "I'll go over there, get them settled down, see what we can come up with. I'll call you if we find Konoval. Or Richie." Joe looked down and finished what was left of the beer he was holding then got up to fetch himself something a little stronger before he left. "You two can hang around here if you want."

"It would probably look better if we left. Besides, if someone shows up after me I want a bit more of a chance to see them coming," Methos said grimly, getting up again.

Joe nodded. "Call you at the dojo?"

"Yeah," Methos agreed, then turned and walked out to the car.

Mac went to follow him, and Joe called after him "Mac... I'm sorry about Richie. You know I..."

"Yeah, I know. But it's him that's been hurt the worst in all this," Mac replied, nodding after his old friend.

Joe sighed. "Yeah. Tell him... tell him when this is all over you can come here and we'll all get very drunk together. That's about the best I can do."

"I'll tell him. He'll appreciate it." Mac turned, then looked back and attempted to joke "You know he'll probably bankrupt the bar with all that free drink."

Joe grinned for form's sake but their hearts really weren't in it. It was too early to joke. Too early to really feel anything at all. For all of them it felt rather unreal. Not having seen the body, there was no finality to anything. Just an emptiness where Richie ought to be, like he'd stepped out for a minute unexpectedly.

Mac turned and walked back to the car, trying to get his mind away from that and on to the hunt ahead of them.

***

It was nearly evening on that short winter day when they got back to the dojo. They weren't saying much to each other. There wasn't much to say really.

Once inside Methos stripped off his coat and started oiling and polishing his sword while Mac did katas with his katana to try and focus. Then Methos stood up and went to stand in front of Mac, sword ready.

"Spar?" Mac asked. Methos nodded, and they started to fight.

They tried to keep in mind that at any time they might need to fight for real, so this fight was a warm up. They needed to practice but they must not wear each other out. That became increasingly difficult to keep in mind however as the burning need to _do_ something pushed them constantly, and the anger that burned even hotter kept urging them to do more. Both were in the frame of mind to take an Immortal life and both had to keep reminding themselves that the Immortal they were facing was not the one they hunted. They swung and parried, neither really gaining an advantage. Mac was surprised at that, at the way his friend had not only improved but changed, fighting from some cold place inside himself. Finally, they stood with swords locked together, grabbing each other's wrists, faces only inches apart.

"When we find Konoval, I get to take him," Methos told Mac, in a tone that expected no argument.

Mac pushed him away and stepped back, sword ready. "No way Methos. I've had this conversation once already, and I made the wrong choice. I'm not risking you."

"You don't get a choice, Highlander. I'm not Richie. I have been looking after myself for five thousand years, and as you can see just because I don't like to fight doesn't mean that I can't."

"You don't like to fight. So let me."

"Oh I want this fight Highlander. I want Konoval's head. I want Richie's Quickening." Methos finished in a near whisper.

"Methos, let me face him. I'm better than you..."

"Want to bet on that?" Methos said, going for him again and skimming his side as Mac only just dodged out the way, then grabbed his arm and held him there.

"Okay, so maybe we're just about as good as each other." Mac said, breathing a bit heavily and gripping Methos' arm tight against his still stinging side. "Richie was important to me too. Why should I let you kill Konoval? Either one of us could do it."

"Because I can make it take longer." replied the ancient Immortal grimly, glaring at the Highlander. Mac realised that it wasn't just Methos in those old eyes right now, it was Death.

And for the very first time he was glad.

Mac grinned a feral grin and released Methos, who stood up waiting on his answer. "Then he's yours, Brother." Duncan quipped, lowering his sword and holding his hand out to the other man.

Methos looked shocked for a moment, then saw that Mac might just actually understand what he was saying. He nodded, then reached out to grip wrists and seal their agreement. "I will pay him well for everything he has done," Methos vowed.

They stood like that for a long moment until the sense of Presence assaulted them. They both grinned mirthlessly and turned to the door.

"Bad timing Konoval," Methos muttered, raising his sword and pulling out his dagger.

"Show yourself," Mac called out, raising his katana, something about the identification bothering him but too eager for this fight to pay much attention. "We're ready for you."

A blonde, muscular figure in a long coat stepped into view, a silhouette since the light of the hall was behind him and the office light that was all the two men had been using to fight by didn't reach that far.

"Time to pay," Methos declared quietly and stepped forwards.

"Woah, guys... relax! Ya know this isn't exactly the welcome I was expecting," A very familiar voice called out as the figure stepped forwards.

The two older Immortals' swords hit the floor along with their jaws as they gaped in disbelief.

"Richie?!?" Mac gasped.

Rich stepped near enough they could see him and his thousand watt smile quite clearly. "The one and only. What, you didn't believe in me?"

Then the other two rushed forwards and they were all hugging and kissing and just reassuring themselves this was real. Richie got one arm around Mac but the other was busy trying to make sure the sword imperfectly hidden in his coat didn't do anyone permanent damage.

"Now _that's_ more like it," Richie gasped when he was finally allowed up for air.

"Is that a sword in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" Methos muttered, a little silly from relief, as he removed the hindrance and pulled Richie into a more intimate embrace. Mac stepped back a little, not much since Rich still had an arm around him.

"Richie... what happened? You died... I mean, I thought I felt..."

Methos considerately left Richie's mouth free to answer with and moved on to his neck, partly checking for new scars. "You better have a bloody good reason for scaring us like that," he mumbled against him.

"It's kind of a long story guys..." Rich said, more or less trying to push Methos away so he could explain coherently. "See what happened was..."

===  
Flashback, the night before, around midnight at the warehouse  
===

Rich had arrived a bit early and found somewhere to park his bike nearby yet far enough it wouldn't get hit by a Quickening or be obvious if the guy tried to run. Then as they'd hoped he found a side door, away from the one Mac was directed to use. It was boarded shut but Rich had the tools to get it open.

He didn't know if he had the time. If he got this wrong, if his buzz wasn't covered by Mac's, Methos was history. And the worst part of it was with them approaching from different angles he couldn't just move when he felt Mac, that would be too late. He had to trust the Highlander would be exactly on time and whichever gods looked after beloved Immortals would give them just a small break. He sent a quick prayer to a few of the most likely ones while he waited.

Exactly when his watch ticked to the hour Rich went for the door. He didn't sense anyone yet. That could be good or worrying. It was a large warehouse, but... then he got the boards off the door and there was no more time to worry. He slipped inside and wedged the door closed again, then moved towards the light slowly. He could see the Immortal bounty hunter and his hostage there, and in a moment he sensed them... And Konoval sensed him, no thank the gods sensed them, as Mac stepped through the well lit door at the end of the room. Konoval looked up at the Highlander and never suspected the other presence.

Rich crept closer, hiding in the shadows as Konoval gloated. He saw Mac reluctantly throw down his sword, far enough to be convincing but close enough to get it back on his way to Methos. Hopefully. He winced slightly at the way Methos' corpse just crumpled and hit the floor when Konoval dropped it. His face went grim when he saw the red stained concrete of the floor and pillar and the very mangled state of his lover's body. He privately swore to himself he would pay back every cut in kind.

Konoval ordered Mac to drop to his knees, and for a horrible moment Richie thought he would object and screw the plan, but he glanced over at Methos' still body and for once swallowed his pride. He knelt down.

Konoval chuckled and shook his head. He'd moved forwards, maybe too close to Mac but far enough away from Methos. "Makes me glad I don't have friends. Who'd want them, when this is all it gets you?" he asked, and raised his sword to strike.

Time.

"Oh, I don't know, there are some advantages," Rich called from the shadows beside them. Konoval swung round instinctively to look for the new threat, and in the moment he was distracted MacLeod rolled past him, grabbed his katana, and came up between Konoval and Methos, sword ready.

Konoval looked back at Mac, started to bring his sword around, but then Richie stepped out into the light. Konoval looked dead scared for a moment. Well, soon he'd just be dead. Rich smiled slowly and made his challenge. "You have two options, Konoval. You face the Highlander, or you face me. Take my advice. Choose him."

Konoval backed up, looking around to keep track of his enemies, and his escape routes. He asked "And who might you be?"

"Richie Ryan."

Konoval looked over at the Highlander, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, then back at Richie. He made his choice. "Jack Konoval. You and I need to take this elsewhere, I think."

Rich grinned coldly, satisfied. There were advantages to being the kid. That choice was the last one Konoval would ever make. "Fine by me. Not too far, I want to get this over with."

"Not a problem," Konoval replied, trying to look tough again, but Rich had seen what he really felt. He waved back at the side door. "Shall we?"

Rich turned to give Konoval just enough space to walk past without being in sword reach. "Yeah, I think we shall." He waved for Konoval to go first.

"Rich..." Mac started to say.

"Get him some place safe," Richie ordered, cutting him off. "I'll take care of Konoval." he stared at MacLeod, his determination quite evident. Reluctantly, Mac nodded. Richie turned back to Konoval, and gestured for him to lead on.

"Really, people are just queuing up to lose their heads over this guy. Must be really great in bed," Konoval sniped as he walked off.

Richie's sword arm twitched but he managed to keep himself in check as he followed Konoval off into the darkness.

He kept close. He knew this guy liked to think of himself as some great predator, but he was just a weasel really. Vicious, but not too smart and not too brave either. He had no stomach for a straight out fight, and Rich fully expected him to make a run for it. He wasn't disappointed. Konoval turned a corner then took off as fast as his fancy boots would carry him, with Richie right behind him.

The pace was no problem to Rich, and unless the guy ran clear across town he knew he could keep up with him. He ran every morning with Mac, this was a piece of cake. What he worried about was where he was running to. A scheming bastard like Konoval always had an escape planned.

Sure enough it wasn't far before Konoval got to the fancy four wheel drive he'd parked back here earlier. There he got a shock that wiped the smug grin off his face yet again.

His car, expensive, fast and covered in security gadgets though it was, sat on bricks with its tyres gone. Windows smashed, wiring pulled out, trunk empty, in short it was totally stripped. Richie laughed out loud as Konoval cursed colourfully. //Score one for street crime. The things that turn out to be useful...// Rich thought.

Then Konoval grabbed for something inside his coat and Richie, remembering the bullet hole, dived out of the way. Unfortunately for him, not quite quick enough. Konoval fired off a whole clip into his chest and stomach, then casually wandered over, sabre ready to finish the job.

He only took two steps. Rich was down merely seconds, then he coughed and flipped himself up to his feet again. Right then Konoval went very pale and, rapidly adjusting his estimate of the 'kid's' age and power, looked to be just about shitting himself.

Rich grinned slowly at him and started jogging along behind Konoval as the other Immortal took off at a panicked dead run. The ache in his chest was fading rapidly, the nasty bruises the bullets had left when they hit his body armour no big deal to an Immortal. //Kevlar, your inflexible friend. Thanks Viv.// Rich thought with a mental chuckle, then sped up after his prey. No way was he letting this one get away.

Konoval was just running now, no plan but to get away from the Immortal he now believed to be considerably older than himself. He'd used up his back up plans, now he was in full retreat. He didn't know the area and the further he ran the more the fear ate at him. This was not in the plan. He knew nothing about his opponent, except he could apparently hide his buzz and shrug off bullet wounds that would have put Konoval down for the best part of an hour. This was not good. This was definitely not good. Konoval was panting already, more from fear than fatigue but the effect was the same. He was winded and he couldn't seem to shake this demon that he'd managed to annoy.

Rich was feeling good. The adrenaline pushed back the fear and the anger pushed away the doubt. This man had tried to kill his friends, he had hurt Methos, and he wasn't going to see another sunrise. It was as simple as that. He saw the bastard start to slow down, looking about for anything that could help him, but this was a good area for not being noticed. No one was around, no doors were open, and the further he ran in this direction the more empty and dilapidated the buildings got.

Finally, Konoval turned a corner and realised a split second too late that it was a dead end. What looked like a street was the loading area between two old, shabby warehouses with tall concrete steps out the back to make it easier to roll stuff off the back of trucks. The opposite side of the area was a tall wall that had probably once been the back of another warehouse. There was no way through. He turned, but then he realised, the demon in black had caught up to him. The only way out was through him.

Well, then that was the way it would be. He backed up into the clear space behind him, watching his opponent stalk forwards with bastard sword held steady before him. His breathing was even, he was barely sweating. What the hell had he got himself into?

//Keep calm, Jack, he's just a kid. He's got to be a kid, you never heard of him. What was his name? Ryan?// he tried to reassure himself.

"So, Richie, you're that eager to die," Konoval taunted, pulling the shreds of his arrogance back on. But it was one thing to throw gibes like that from a position of strength, holding a sword to their friend's neck. It was quite another to try it while backing away from someone who'd seen you show fear. Ryan just threw him that damned shark smile of his and held his sword higher.

"When you're ready," Rich said confidently, not pressing his advantage yet, quite confident the other guy wouldn't have the guts to stand back and get his breath back.

He was right. Konoval dived forwards and swept his sabre across at the level of Richie's knees. Rich blocked easily, not letting Konoval slide his blade off like he wanted to, knocking it back and jabbing at his stomach. Konoval leapt back to get out of the way and Rich followed through with a quick swing at his neck that came close enough to leave him very rattled. Konoval stumbled against the concrete beside him and thought maybe he'd have the advantage if he got the high ground. He threw his empty gun at Richie's face and while he batted it aside with his sword Konoval swung himself up to the platform.

Once there however he realised the height wasn't working as well for him as he'd hoped. He only had access to Rich's head and shoulder areas, places he was well able to defend with solid, square blocks and parries. Ryan on the other hand could hack and chop at his legs and the angle he had to defend himself at was awkward for blows of that power. He couldn't quite direct them away and one took a chunk out his calf. He staggered back, hopping and silently ordering his Immortal healing to kick in. This was going badly. He bumped along the wall behind him, hoping to get to the end of the platform nearest the road out, but Ryan saw that and went over to swing himself up that end. Konoval bumped backwards along the wall, testing his leg every couple of steps and hopeful of it soon being up to bearing his weight again. His shoulder bumped into a protruding piece of the big loading doors, and he realised there were gaps and broken places in it. Nothing he could fit through, especially with Ryan up on the platform and advancing towards him, but on the other side... he risked glancing away and saw a deeper darkness that just might be a way in, or for him a way out of this losing fight. He looked back, saw Ryan way too close, and ducking he drew out his boot knife and threw it underhand up into Ryan's chest before rolling off the platform again and landing with a grunt.

Richie paused a moment to pull the knife out where it got wedged between his vest and his shoulder. He wondered briefly if wearing armour would be considered cheating, then thought considering how long it had been common practice probably not, and even if it was shooting someone in the back was worse. He chucked the knife at Konoval's back as the other man scrambled up the opposite platform, but missed.

//What the hell is he doing? Why is that any better than here?// Rich thought as he swung himself down and jogged over. As he pulled himself up he saw Konoval force his way in through the broken door. //Oh, so you think you can lose me in there, do you.//

"I've got news for you, you bastard. I'm the pay back you've been earning all your life. You won't get away from me," Richie yelled as he easily slipped through the break made by the larger man, then ducked and rolled on instinct. Good instinct, as a knife went through the opening where he'd been briefly silhouetted. //How many weapons has this guy got anyway?// Rich thought as he got to his feet and gave his eyes a moment to adjust. If Viv in full battle dress was anything to go by, it could be a lot. He would have to be careful.

He looked around, the inside of the warehouse dimly illuminated in the orange light pouring through the holes in the roof. Rich stalked forwards slowly, sword raised. He looked around.

The warehouse had once been a three level building, the loading area they had broken into, one floor above, and one below. Now the top floor was history, as was most of the roof, leaving this floor a mass of broken beams and loose tiles. He couldn't see Konoval, but neither could he see any evidence of another door. The walls had seemed solid on the way past. He was pretty confident he had Konoval trapped in here.

He also knew a cornered animal was at its most dangerous.

He picked his way forwards carefully, wary of his footing and not quite able to be sure if any given heap of rubbish concealed a man with a sword or not. The light gave him outlines, no real colours, and his depth perception would probably be off. That was bad. He had a work flashlight he could clip on his jacket but that would make him a target and... he ducked again as something whistled towards his back... he was having enough problems with that right now anyway.

"Come out and face me, Konoval! What, are you afraid? You seemed eager enough to use that pretty sword before! Gold plating doesn't improve your technique any though, does it?" Richie called out, scanning the area the projectile had come from for movement. He twisted one way as something moved out the corner of his eye but saw only a cat, moving out fast as its den became a battle ground for other creatures. Then from the other direction came a scratch and clatter and he turned fast enough to catch a glimpse of Konoval's coat billowing out behind him as he jumped down off one of the larger piles of debris.

Rich ran and jumped up on top of the same heap in a different place then barely caught his balance as he found a large hole leading down to the completely dark lowest floor. He wobbled there a moment then Konoval took a swipe at his legs, his sabre glittering as it swept around. The light alerted Richie barely in time to risk a leap to the other side of the gap, the sword nicking his leg as he jumped, but he landed on the other side and with some relief found the lighter area had been solid floor after all. He was rapidly deciding this was absolutely the last place he would chose to fight.

"Well, now we're even, kid," Konoval called from further off in the darkness.

Richie took a couple of hesitant steps forwards, then decided enough was enough and got out the torch. It fitted in the front pocket and illuminated a neat area for about four steps ahead of him. Trouble was those four steps were now the only part of the warehouse he could see. Still, he heard movement from the far side of the room and figured that had to be Konoval.

As he headed for the noise he realised the two of them had gone in a circle most of the way round the edge of the room. And then he saw Konoval, back lit by the light leaking in the door, almost to the entrance again.

"See you around, kid," he called back, laughing, then jumped down.

And down, and down with a screech until with a wet thud he hit something on the level below. The treacherous footing had finally caught him. Rich grinned and headed quickly for where Konoval had fallen, thinking it was nice to have karma on your side for a change. By his work light he could see the worst bits of floor clearly and got to that particular hole before Konoval had finished picking himself up.

One of the major roof beams made an easy ramp down not ten feet away, and he advanced by that route as Konoval staggered to his feet again. Once down the pit the way back up wasn't one either of them could take with someone coming after them. This fight would finish here.

"Well, Konoval, it's just you and me. No tricks, no traps, no way out. You ready to die?" Rich asked in an almost conversational tone, circling towards him over clear bits of floor.

Konoval was injured and afraid. "Look, kid, it was just business. You know, I've got to make a living. And the rest was the Game. With the Gathering here how could I miss a chance like that?"

Rich was most unimpressed. "So fight. There can be only one, and it's not going to be you, not after you hurt my friends."

He tried to cut a deal. "Kid, you know I'm rich. Tell you what, I'll give you half of everything I got," he said, arrogance gone, staggering back trying to get out of the light.

Rich just kept advancing steadily.

"You can have all of it! I don't care. Just let me walk away, I'll transfer the lot, you know I make a deal I stick to it. Please."

Rich's face was blank as he hissed "No deal." and swung at him.

Konoval parried, just. This floor had less debris so he didn't have to worry about his footing, he just kept backing away and parrying and looking for an opening. His left arm and most of his ribs were only half way healed but his opponent was fresh. The light got in his eyes, he followed the glitter of the sword blade rather than the movements of its wielder and he knew that was a bad move but the other guy's black clad outline just faded into the shadows.

Richie watched his opponent back away, beaten and knowing it, but the fear in his eyes didn't give him any particular satisfaction. Now this was just something that had to be done, a rhythmic pattern of cuts and swipes that forced the other man's parries into a pattern too. And then, just like in practice, there was the opening and he thrust his sword in straight for the heart.

Konoval was good. He jumped sideways at the last moment and almost dodged the blow. But he was not quite good enough. Richie's gothic bastard sword impaled him through the shoulder of his sword arm and he knew it was all over. He dropped to his knees, dropping his sword next to him.

"Kid... please... let me pay you..." Konoval panted weakly, looking up at the shadowed face of his requital.

Rich tugged out his blade and raised it over his head. "It's settled. You'll never touch him again."

Then the sword dropped.

Konoval's head hit the floor and rolled into darkness.

Richie stepped back a few paces and switched off his torch, not hopeful of it surviving the Quickening but putting it away just in case. Then the body started to glow and he braced himself for what was to come.

The mist flowed up in a spinning column above Konoval's body. It pulled light up in itself until the room was practically floodlit, light stabbing up and out the holes in the floor above and shining through what was left of the roof. It spread along every surface and wall, coating the ceiling like blue fire. The air moved up towards it, like the world was taking a breath.

Then the world roared.

Lightning struck out from the column level with the ground and hit Richie square in the chest, his arms jerking up and his back arcing in a familiar response to the pain/pleasure that hit him.

The Quickening. All that had been Jack Konoval, everything he had known, every Immortal he had killed, it all flowed from the column of light along that electric link to Richie Ryan, the man who had just defeated him. Rich felt it flow into him, faster than he could process, more powerful than he could cope with at once and he screamed loudly, the power flowing in and pushing the scream out with nothing he could do about it. As it built up he felt the recently familiar sensation of distance somewhere in the back of his mind, like some part of him was elsewhere while it felt this. The next instant the Quickening had him full force and he couldn't spare thought for observation. Every part of him was caught up in this overwhelming rush.

Then the column of light rushed down towards him, and the warehouse came with it.

Every surface the mist had touched, the ceiling, the walls, the roof and all the debris were pulled back with the mist, straight towards Richie. In seconds the weight had crushed him flat against the floor, and he died, even the awesome life giving power he was receiving not able to sustain a body that was currently approaching two dimensional.

That left more than half the power unleashed and with no obvious place to go.

It chose to go out.

The explosion lit the sky and carried the debris away in every direction. It knocked the warehouse flat and if it hadn't been centred mostly underground it would have taken out most of the block. As it was it blew holes in neighbouring foundations and took out the opposite warehouse and the old wall at the end of the street. Even that didn't calm the Quickening storm. Lightning stabbed out at random, some stabbing Rich's dead body and some Konoval's corpse with no effect on either one but most just hitting the floor randomly like a miniature thunderstorm. Then, finally, it was over, and the two bodies lay there in the centre of the blast as distant sirens signalled the emergency response of the normal world.

Across the now still and empty space hissed the echo of distant anguish...

 

~... Methos.... I think I felt him die......~

 

===  
Richie's welcome back, Mac's Dojo, soon to be on the Dojo floor at this rate...  
===

Rich finished his narration, Methos still enthusiastically making sure that every inch of him was alright. "... I guess someone called about the collapse and we got dug up. Anyway, I woke up in the morgue, again. Found my sword and amulet, couldn't find my clothes or my vest. I had to get back across town in a lab coat and some shorts I found." Rich noticed with some interest that the combination of the after-effects of the Quickening and the sensitivity he felt everywhere he had healed was amplifying Methos' attentions. He felt his borrowed shorts getting tighter and then remembered the previous owner had probably died in them. "Look, if there's anything else you got to know, can it wait?" Rich said to the both of them, pushing his lover away with a bit more resolve this time. "I really have to get out of these clothes," he smirked. "Seriously, I gotta have a shower, I'm a real mess."

"A shower sounds good to me," Methos smirked back at him.

Mac nodded and stepped back. "I'll call Joe and tell him the good news. Then we've got to get you out of Seacouver. I'm sorry Richie but you're dead here now. More people know you here than Paris, you can't just hide and hope..."

"Mac, relax. I didn't take my wallet and, well, I was pretty unrecognisable when they dug me up."

"Are you sure? If you get declared dead..."

"Mac, I was flatter than road kill. Really, I saw the autopsy file on me, it said 'Give up on dental records, try DNA'. And I know my DNA isn't on file anywhere yet."

Mac winced at the mental image as he led Richie over to the lift. "Well... if you're sure. It's good to have you back Rich," he said with a slight quaver in his voice, hugging him briefly before he pulled the door down on the three of them.

"It's good to be back," Rich agreed, then lightly slapped Methos' hand away as he tried to make it even better.

"Methos... I just have to shower. And maybe get some sleep. I've been out a long time, but most of that time I was dead. I'm pretty tired."

"Of course, brat. We can pick this up again later," Methos promised, less joking than he usually managed. Loving Richie was proving to be very hard on the heart.

***

 

***

The next evening at Joe's the three Immortals celebrated, getting mildly drunk on the free beer Joe was providing. The Watcher hadn't said much when Richie turned up alive, just waved them over to a table with four beers already on it, but he had to blink a lot for a moment. That was twice he'd thought his young friend dead. It had been too many the first time.

They chatted about Konoval, trying to put recent events into perspective.

"I can't understand how anyone can be so focused on money. You get money, you use it to live on. You don't gold plate your sword hilt and spend all your time earning more," Mac remarked.

"From what we learned the guy had so much money he could buy his own country, but he just loved gold. Had great heaps of it, couldn't get enough of the stuff," Joe said.

"So I guess it's rather appropriate that such a rich man had a Rich end," Methos smirked, and the others groaned at the bad pun.

"So even a million dollars wouldn't be much to him. It's a stupid thing to die for, let alone kill for," Mac said.

"He didn't die for the money, he was trying for your head," Methos corrected.

"You know _that's_ what's been bothering me," Richie realised. "We figure he had a deal with Arthur to bring you back alive. But he was going to let you go in exchange for Mac's head. He figured Mac would trust him enough because for him a deal's a deal."

"Yeah, so he said. He could have just been lying Rich," Methos said reasonably.

"No, Richie's right. Konoval keeps his deals. He did when I met him and the Watchers say the same," Mac said, thinking about it.

"Only this time he was going to break one or the other," Richie said, still bothered. "I mean, if you're going to start double dealing then the Highlander's Quickening is a good reason to..." Mac raised an eyebrow, and Rich quickly corrected "...I mean from their point of view. Still, what if he wasn't going to break a deal? We know what he said to Mac, but we don't really know about Arthur, if that's who the money man was. What if Konoval just, like, saw a wanted poster or something. Not that they do that any more."

Methos went serious. "No, but there are ways... Damn. You're right." He got up and pulled his coat back on. "That means there are others. And that means Adam Pierson has to disappear for a while. Sorry, I'll be seeing you." he nodded to the other guys at the table, turned and started to go.

Richie got up hurriedly and followed him. "Hey, M- Adam, wait a minute." He caught up with him just outside the door, where Methos turned and looked at him a moment. Methos drew breath to say something, then couldn't find the right words.

"You're leaving now? Just like that?" Richie asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Methos glanced at the floor, then looked at Richie, trying to let his eyes say what he couldn't, how much he loved him and that if he didn't leave now he just wouldn't be able to at all. "I never said I would stay." he said quietly, almost apologising. "I'm sorry, Rich. If there are others after me..."

"Yeah, _if_ there are. It was just an idea."

"An idea that made sense Rich. I've been too predictable lately. Like he said, if I'm not in Paris then I'm here. If one man I've never heard of knows to look for me where the Highlander is then there are probably others. He had a sword to my neck, Rich. He could have killed you. I can't let that happen again," Methos said.

"So you just leave. Let me come with you. I can go get my passport, wherever you want to go I can go with you. I was packed to leave anyway before you turned up again. You could show me what's to like about Tibet," Richie half heartedly grinned, but he already knew what Methos' answer would be.

"No Rich. I'm sorry. I can't. If I could... but I have to disappear. Between this and the Watchers I should maybe even kill off this life, though since they all know I'm Immortal that won't be as much use."

"Come on, Methos, you don't have to leave right _now_. How many Immortal bounty hunters can there be?"

"A lot, Rich. It's one of those professions that actually suits the way we have to live. There are men out there much better at it than Konoval, and for a million they'll be after me. Rich... I'm sorry. I'd stay if I could," Methos admitted almost in a whisper, looking into Richie's gorgeous blue eyes. Oh yes, he'd stay with this man for lifetimes if he could. But their lives didn't work that way.

Richie looked into his eyes and saw the pain there. He threw his arms around Methos and hugged him tightly. "I know," he whispered, then pulled Methos into a deep kiss. He tried to put into that one kiss all that he felt for this man, and Methos did the same in return, giving each other as much of themselves as they could in the time they had. Eventually, it had to end. They stepped apart slightly and looked into each other's eyes. Richie was the first to let go. He stepped back and let his arms drop to his sides.

"If you're going, go. I'll see you again, later," Richie whispered, one hand going to the amulet he always wore.

Methos didn't miss the gesture. He swallowed hard. He might have liked something similar from Richie, but he didn't really miss it. Richie gave of himself, every time they were together. He looked at Rich, trying to etch this image into memory to go alongside all the other precious moments. He tried to think of something else to say, but really there wasn't anything. He just nodded, turned and walked away. Rich watched him for a moment, then turned and went back inside. What Methos didn't mention was he now had to go back to Richie's place to collect his things. He'd left them there thinking he could stay with him a while. That painful irony he kept to himself.

Back inside Mac watched as Richie slowly walked back to their table, concerned for his friend.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Richie sat down then looked over at him and shrugged. "What can I do. He does this. And if people are hunting him, it's probably for the best if he hides out for a while," Rich sighed, then reached for his beer and drained it. Silently Joe passed him a fresh mug. "Anyway, he'll be back."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is so ancient I forgot I'd written it. No, really, I ever wrote sex with Duncan MacLeod? Since when? So, anyway, my writing has moved on quite a lot since this.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure this is all the parts. My website says the Adult bits were archived on the R/M archive, but I can't find that, even on Wayback. So I'm left to wonder, did I post an incomplete story, did I label it right, did I rediscover all the parts?
> 
> ... do I care enough to find out? By this point, no. Sorry.


End file.
